


Absence and Jealousy

by junko



Series: Senbonzakura's Song [13]
Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 13:47:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1389988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Renji gone to Hueco Mundo, Byakuya finds himself missing his lover fiercely.  Running into Shuuhei Hisagi, who Byakuya knows Renji finds attractive, doesn't help matters....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Absence and Jealousy

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks go to Josey (cestus) for her help in typo-stopping and plot untangling, as always.

High in the sky, the sun shone brightly and the Seireitei streets were slick with melting snow. Byakuya had to carefully pick his way down to Captain Ukitake’s lakeside home through the mud and stubborn bits of ice. Perhaps it was the color of the bleached wooden walkway against the cold, gray stillness of the deep lake, but Ugendo looked… lonely.

When the door slid open, the sensation increased. The usually omnipresent Kyōraku was noticeably absent and the subdued way in which Ukitake let Byakuya in made Byakuya ask, “Are you well, Taicho?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Ukitake said with a forced sort of smile as he found a second bowl and poured tea for Byakuya. Ukitake sank to the floor slowly, as if painfully. “I just slept poorly with the snowstorm. The cold, you know?”

Yet water was his element.

Had Ukitake slept ‘poorly’ or… alone? Byakuya couldn’t repress an impulse to check the spot where the bed was often left laid out when Ukitake was ill. But, it had been stowed away.

Where was Ukitake’s partner? Without the boisterous captain at his side, Ukitake seemed… halved.

Hmmmm.

Captain Kyōraku had been the one to bring Daisuke to the estate last night. Had there been a falling out? Though Kyōraku had used the word ‘spy’ to describe his own relationship with the kagema, was it possible that Daisuke more than that to him? 

Perhaps it was unkind, but that didn’t seem beyond the realm of possibility in Byakuya’s mind. Kyōraku flirted with anyone and anything, it seemed. Byakuya remembered well from his own days here at the Thirteenth that Kyōraku had a tendency to wander away, disappearing from Ukitake’s life for months at a time; sometimes not even bothering to return when Ukitake was terribly ill. Such apparent heartlessness had made Byakuya dislike Kyōraku.

Was Kyōraku off on another ‘wander’? Perhaps precipitated by whatever relationship he had with Daisuke?

Well, it was hardly Byakuya’s business, nor why he’d come so far.

“I had a difficult night, as well,” Byakuya said finally, taking a sip of the hot tea. As usual, Ukitake’s taste was exquisite. The tea was rich and nutty. Byakuya took another slower, savoring sip before continuing. “Perhaps you heard of my cousin’s kidnapping?”

“Shunsui told me,” Ukitake said. 

Ah, he’d been around at least a little, then. 

“Yes, well,” Byakuya began. He took another sip of the strong tea, and then plunged onward, “It seems I owe you an apology. During the rescue operation, things were uncovered that point to Aizen’s involvement in our Rukongai troubles. I now believe, perhaps, that Kaien Shiba’s reappearance was merely an illusion.”

Ukitake had been leaning forward, clutching his tea bowl in both hands, and listening very intently. He watched Byakuya for another few moments, expectantly. Then he smiled and laughed one of his soft, self-deprecating chuckles. “Oh!” He said, sitting back. “You came out all this way to say ‘sorry’? You didn’t have to do that, Byakuya. I never took you seriously.” He laughed lightly again and rubbed the back of his neck, like a schoolboy, “After all, I knew I hadn’t illegally resurrected him!”

“Indeed,” Byakuya said, holding back a blush of shame by sheer force of will. His eyes focused on the drink in his hand. “However, my assumption against your character was rude.”

“It was Shunsui who took the greater offense,” Ukitake said. Then, with a sigh, he pressed his lips together tightly and glanced out the open doorway, to where the sun melted the snow-frosted edges of the expansive lake. A sad expression flitted briefly across Ukitake’s face, but he covered it quickly. “Will you stay for lunch? We can comfort each other!”

“Comfort?” Byakuya asked, a little surprised by this offer. 

Byakuya was hardly the person most people turned to for comfort—well, with the notable exception of Renji these days. Surely Ukitake wasn’t suggesting something like that?

As if reading his mind, Ukitake explained, “We can sip tea and watch the sun on the lake to calm our minds. After all, you must be as worried for Renji as I am for Rukia.”

Rukia? When had Ukitake ever worried for Rukia? Especially since it seemed far more obvious that it was his lover he missed, not the subordinate he so often threw carelessly into the maw of danger.

Byakuya frowned into his tea bowl. Could this conversation be more confusing? Byakuya felt like everything he sent out was returned, misdirected. 

However, that was common feeling around Ukitake. 

Shaking his head, Byakuya said politely, “It would be my pleasure, Taicho, but with both my lieutenant and Third away, I’m afraid I must decline. My division is very shorthanded at the moment.”

“Oh, then I mustn’t keep you,” Ukitake said, already rising to his feet. “I’m being silly, anyway. Our subordinates are strong and capable. I’m sure we’ve nothing to fear.”

#

Rather than shunpo, Byakuya decided to walk back to the Division—at least part of the way. He needed to clear his mind. Despite what he’d said, he was in no particular hurry to return to a Division quite capable of running itself, and, moreover, Byakuya wanted to take some time to try to puzzle out the strange interaction with Ukitake.

Being some time just after noon, the streets around the Thirteenth were bustling with a brisk lunch trade. Dozens of food carts of all varieties lined the tall, ancient stone battlement that surrounded the division. In this neighborhood, the tradition was to set stools up under colorful curtain awnings, encouraging a sit-down, leisurely pace. Shinigami sat alone or in groups, chatting and laughing, while slurping noodles or nibbling at okonomiyaki. 

As always, it seemed, the area around the Thirteenth had more families with small children than any other. A group of young girls squealed past Byakuya, dashing around him in a circle. One paused behind him and darted back the other way, as if having used his billowing haori as a shield or hiding spot. 

Children’s games.

Misdirection.

Sometimes Byakuya wondered a great deal about his former captain and his ‘shadowy’ partner. 

Only time would tell, ultimately, whose side they were on. Kyōraku, in his jovial way, had been surprisingly threatening last night. As Byakuya had escorted him out, they’d exchanged almost no words, until, at the gate, Kyōraku had laughed in that way he had. He’d shaken his head, and, as if admonishing a toddler, had said, “Be careful, Mr. Byakuya. Don’t play games with me; Katen Kyokotsu is a sore loser.”

Then he’d disappeared into the raging snowstorm; the ominously cheerful, bright pink kimono fading into the blustery night like a ghost.

Admittedly, Byakuya had a tendency to think of his former mentors as harmless, if meddling, old men. Yet, every so often, they took the time to remind him how very wrong that estimation was.

Ukitake… he seemed distracted, but had his behavior been… a distraction?

The two of them were like that, one playing sleight of hand for the other. It made the hairs on the back of Byakuya’s neck tingle.

He was so lost in thought that he barely noticed the approach of the Ninth Division’s lieutenant, until Shūhei Hisagi was at his elbow. “Captain Kuchiki!?”

Byakuya glanced down--and then up--surprised to discover Lieutenant Hisagi was precisely his height. They stood exactly eye-to-eye. Similarly lean, though Hisagi might have outweighed Byakuya by a pound or two, the difference was very slim. Even more disconcertingly, their eyes were nearly the same color; although Byakuya’s believed his own to be a lighter shade of gray. 

Did Renji have a very specific body type he preferred?

They had the same jet-black hair, as well, though styled radically differently. In fact, Hisagi’s entire ‘style’ could be termed ‘radical,’ what with the rude facial tattoos and tendency towards studded leather armbands and chokers.

The latter made Byakuya wonder if they shared other... _interests_ as well.

The silence had stretched a bit longer than intended, and Hisagi looked nervous. “Uh, sorry to disturb you, sir,” he said, this time adding a little saluting nod. “But, have you seen Renji—I mean, Lieutenant Abarai?”

“I wasn’t aware you had any business with my lieutenant.” _Besides his classroom fantasies of you, that is_ , Byakuya thought, irritated.

“Renji’s ‘Let’s Do Shikai’ part two was due on my desk three days ago, and, of course, now it’s like he’s gone into hiding. I can’t find him anywhere,” Hisagi said. He glanced out over the rooftops as if hoping to spot Renji there. Then, he fell into step beside Byakuya, who’d attempted to quicken his pace to avoid further conversation. Hisagi continued with a sigh, “It’s so hard to get people to turn stuff in—well, at all, much less on time. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to write a companion piece for the Communiqué? How about ‘Let’s Do Bankai’?”

“How about ‘Let’s Not’?” Byakuya said.

“Yeah, well, it was worth a shot.” Hisagi shrugged. Turning back in the direction of his own Division, Hisagi waved a goodbye that was more of a finger shake, “Well, when you see Renji, you tell him I’m going to get this out of him, one way or the other, even if I have to stand over him, day and night, with a whip! No more beer or nights out until I get my article!”

A… whip?!

Nights out?

No. So much ‘no.’ In fact, it was all Byakuya could do to not snarl ‘you will not come anywhere near my Renji.’ Instead, he just nodded stiffly and quietly said, “Believe me, I’ll have words for him when next I see him.”

#

When Byakuya returned to the Division, it was in… chaos. At least, that was how it seemed to him, particularly since everyone seemed to suddenly need something from their captain. How was he supposed to know where the requisition forms were kept? No doubt they were wherever Renji normally stored them. No, he had no idea where that might be. Did he have an opinion about the order of the practice schedule? Certainly, it was that someone else should deal with it. But, he couldn’t say that, could he? So, he made an executive decision. But, when he did, Byakuya got the very strong impression from all the furrowed brows and blank looks that that was not what Renji would have chosen, and, thus, some how, completely wrong, though none of them dared say it. No, he most certainly did not wish to intercede between two quarreling unseated officers, however, that, at least, had been solved easily by a stern look that had them both quivering and apologizing and promising to behave.

How on earth did Renji cope with this day in and day out?

Byakuya finally found an excuse to escape. It was a job far below his rank, but if no one else was brave enough to turn in the monthly ‘suggestion box’ cards to the head captain, Byakuya certainly had the skill set to walk up the hill and had not even an ounce fear of the First’s lieutenant. 

Plus, it counted as Division work; he wasn’t shirking his duty.

Nor was he running away, even if he did shunpo to the front gate to make certain no one else reached for his sleeve. 

It was a testimony to the lieutenant’s office’s level of frantic energy that the streets seemed quiet by comparison. Byakuya liked to think that the neighborhood around the Sixth reflected the division’s personality. Thus, it was an eclectic combination of dignified and boisterousness. The tradespeople who lived near the division were mostly highly skilled masons, builders, and carpenters. They all had families, worked hard, lived mostly sedate, genteel lives—except, about this time of day, when many congregated at the red-lanterned akachōchin, gaffawing loudly and shouting good-natured teases and jabs at one another.

Just listening to the sounds from the tavern made Byakuya miss Renji so fiercely it was like a physical ache.

Perhaps he should have stayed with Ukitake, after all. The smells coming from the tavern reminded Byakuya he’d forgotten lunch, and it wasn’t as though he didn’t understand the feeling of being… completed—no, that seemed to diminish the greatness of both parties… perhaps, enhanced? Elevated?--by one’s partner.

Byakuya let out a long breath.

His reiatsu reflexively cast out to feel Renji’s solidity beside him, only to find an emptiness. Ah, what Byakuya wouldn’t give to have Renji here now, those ridiculously long legs that made Renji’s stride into a kind of swagger. To see the setting sun turning ruby hair to living fire. The way the dark lines of his tattoos made every expression fiercer and more intense. And, yet, despite all that, how easily laughter came to him, how quick his smile, and how light his presence. It was never difficult to be with him, Renji seemed to innately understand when to give space and when to fill the silences.

Like no one else ever had, since Hisana.

Sometimes Byakuya wondered if he should be more concerned about losing Renji too soon, as he had Hisana. But, the feeling never lasted. There was hardly anyone more resilient than Renji. Of course, the foolish baboon could very easily die by overestimating his own abilities, but, oddly, that scenario comforted Byakuya. If Renji were, even now, roaring headlong into a certain death, Byakuya knew Renji would die precisely as he wished to—sword in hand, challenging fate with a snarl on his lips.

And though Byakuya thought perhaps he would never love again, he would be, at least, at peace with such a death from Renji. 

Overconfidence. It would be its own reward, or doom, as the case may be.

No, the thing that clawed at Byakuya’s gut was Rukia’s tendency to not trust her own strength. It was no wonder she hadn’t achieved bankai, really. If he were Sode no Shirayuki, he’d feel very betrayed by Rukia’s willingness to surrender her zanpakutō in a crisis, to literally give it away to an untrained human, rather than even call it out? The situation must have been truly dire. However, it was that strange impulse of Rukia’s, that deep lack of confidence, that frightened Byakuya to the core.

She could be so strong, if only she would believe in herself.

Byakuya wondered if something in Inuzuri had done this to Rukia, broken her spirit a little. Here, again, he wished he could turn to Renji and ask. But, even Renji kept a lot of his past close to his chest—even though it so clearly defined him. 

Renji had never managed, despite Academy and decades in the Guard, to lose his accent or the gigantic chip on his shoulder. He was never comfortable at the estate or when presented with any kind of luxury. That last was particularly frustrating for Byakuya, because it seemed that any time Byakuya tried to give Renji a gift of any kind, it backfired. Hisana, at least, allowed herself to be pampered and bejeweled. 

Renji… Byakuya couldn’t even imagine—if he showered Renji with glittering baubles he would probably be miserable, though Byakuya had no idea why.

Having reached the First Division, Byakuya deposited the envelope in the appropriate place, after having been given directions by a startled Lieutenant Kira who’d clearly been on the same mission. 

“Is Lieutenant Abarai not feeling well?” Kira asked as they walked out together.

“He’s on assignment.”

Kira flinched and a dark shadow passed in front of his eyes before his expression hardened. “Hueco Mundo,” he surmised. Then, his fists clenched at his side, and he whispered, almost like a curse or, perhaps, a prayer: “Gin.”

Byakuya nodded, not knowing how else to respond. As Kira walked away, Byakuya wished he were the sort of person who could casually ask, ‘You knew Renji in Academy, isn’t that so? What was he like back then?’ But, obviously, Kira was lost in a very… intense thought about his former captain. And, despite his keenest wishes sometimes, Byakuya had never been that sort.

So, Byakuya returned to his own musings. 

Noticing that the lanterns were being lit, Byakuya thought he’d best flashstep back before the entire day was lost to rumination and pining for Renji. He’d make a quick stop at the estate for some dinner and then return to the Division. Surely, the night shift would be less chaotic?

He could only hope so.

Byakuya stepped out of shunpo at the estate’s back gate, the servant’s entrance. It was the closest door, and, though Byakuya considered flashing to the front, he saw no reason why he couldn’t let himself in this way. He opened the door only to nearly collide with Seichi, Renji’s brother.

Seichi seemed ready to snarl or snap, but then he took one look at Byakuya, his eyes widening at the sight of the kenseikan and haori, and he fell to his knees. “A thousand pardons!”

A foolish impulse overwhelmed Byakuya and, surprising even himself, he said, “Join me for dinner. I wish to speak to you of Renji.”

Seichi looked… trapped, but he said, “Um, okay.”

Byakuya nodded. If he couldn’t talk to Renji about his past, he could at least find something out from his brother. “Follow me.”

#

Seichi ate exactly like his brother, with vigor and a seemingly endless appetite. It was alternately fascinating and disgusting to watch.

Byakuya finished with his portion some time ago. He sat back, sipped his tea, and tried to formulate exactly what he wanted to ask. Hardly a word had passed between them since the plates were set out, and before that only grunted replies to ‘how are you settling in?’ and other such pleasantries. Byakuya found that now that he had Seichi here, he had no idea how to talk to him. 

In the end, it was Seichi who spoke first. Perhaps he’d sensed Byakuya’s eyes on him, but the chopsticks slowed their constant shovel long enough for him to ask, “What?” When Byakuya didn’t answer right away, Seichi unhunched himself from over his food, let the chopsticks rest in his lap and said, “Right. I mean, of course you want something. I mean, me eating at the captain’s table, that’s a Thing. So, what do I owe?

Owe. Such a loaded word, but one that never seemed far from Seichi’s mind; even so, his assessment of the situation was spot on.

“Just a little information,” Byakuya said. He held his tea bowl in his hands to warm them. Eishirō, who clearly disapproved of this gathering, had set their dinner in the very formal ‘war room.’ Samurai and oni battled on the walls around them. The large, expansive room with its cherry wood ceiling beams and severe emptiness was very cold and echoing. “I’m curious what you remember of Renji, in his youth.”

“Heh,” Seichi went back to nibbling on the remaining bits of pickled plums. “The Renji I knew was a thief and a punk. Not much bigger than me, but foul-mouthed and mean as a viper.”

Byakuya wondered at Seichi’s choice of descriptors. Did he know about Zabimaru’s snake tail? 

Even so, it was hard to imagine Renji ever having been as small as Seichi. Seichi was so tiny he looked almost child-like, though he seemed to finally be filling out some, after so many days away from prison. The sun brought a glow to his once-sallow skin and the work in the garden added beginnings of muscles, which showed under his yukata. It might be Byakuya’s imagination, but it seemed Seichi had grown an inch or two, as well.

“Otherwise, I guess he was the same. Still always kept his hair pulled up when it was long,” Seichi said, with a shake of his head like he couldn’t understand Renji’s fashion-sense. Helping himself to another of the plums, Seichi laughed to himself and said, “I used to tease him he was trying hard to be ugly, because he knew how cute he was with it down. But, you can’t exactly run the Abarai gang looking like some bish, can you?” Seichi glanced up at Byakuya and added, “Uh, no offense.”

It took Byakuya several minutes to piece together that ‘bish’ was probably short for bishonen. Though how it applied to himself, Byakuya didn’t know. If he was anything like that, he was very clearly a biseinen, having left behind his boyhood some time ago. However, Seichi seemed concerned that he’d made a misstep, so Byakuya waved off his concern and said, “None taken.” 

As Seichi continued to hunt through the plates and baskets for scraps to devour, Byakuya sipped his tea. 

“Is that what you want to know?” Seichi asked around a mouthful of rice. It was wonder he never swallowed any of those long, floppy blonde dreads that hung down into his face. He still wore the bandana Renji had given him to cover the forehead tattoo. “I mean, what kind of info you looking for? I won’t grass him out, you know. I took the Abarai oath. We’re brothers.”

“I want nothing like that,” Byakuya said, though he was grateful to hear that Seichi had no intention of giving over any details of Renji’s criminal past. The last thing Byakuya wanted was for Aunt Masama to get wind of anything she could still pin on Renji. 

“So what do you want?” Seichi said, checking a second time and discovering there was still no more fish left under the basket. “I mean, this meal, it must’ve cost a fortune. Plus, you’ve been taking care of me a long time now. I don’t know how to say this, but I don’t want none of this added to Renji’s ledger, you know? So take what you want from me, you understand?”

Byakuya most certainly did not. “I’m sorry, what?”

A blush bloomed across Seichi’s nose and he dropped his gaze to stare at his lap. “I’ve seen how Renji pays. I’m saying I’m the one that owes for this. Not him.”

This conversation had lost Byakuya completely. “Renji pays for nothing. What are you talking about?”

“Don’t make me say it, you bastard,” Seichi whispered through clenched teeth. His face paled and he started to shake. 

What was going on? And why was he a ‘bastard’ all of a sudden? “You may have to. I’ve no hope of understanding otherwise.”

“Look,” Seichi said after taking a steady breath. “I don’t know what kind of extra bargain Renji made to get me out of the clink, but you must have to hit him hard to bruise him. I’m saying stop it.” Seichi risked a glance up, and his eyes were full of fire. “It’d probably kill me, but it don’t seem right, him taking a beating for me… or having to pay on his knees.”

Byakuya opened his mouth, but not even air would come out he was so stunned. 

His mind churning, Byakuya concentrated on taking one breath at a time and pouring himself another cup of tea. Finally, he was able to say, “You misunderstand the situation.” Though Byakuya had no idea how to explain it properly, since it wasn’t as if they’d met over drinks in a bar. Byakuya had been drinking, but he’d ordered Renji to strip in his office. That hardly made the case for ‘he choses to be with me.’ With a sigh, Byakuya opted for the truth--at least the truth as he knew it: “Things started out unbalanced, but that’s not how I want them to be in the end. If there’s a ledger of any kind, it’s the sort of exchange typical between couples. Of course I expect certain things of Renji, but he does the same of me. The only thing I hope for in trade for all that I’ve given you is for Renji to be happy.”

“Then what’s all this?” Seichi asked, indicating the empty plates. “What am I doing here?”

“Truthfully, I miss Renji. I’d hoped your stories of him would ease the discomfort for a while.”

Seichi’s face was bright red. Ironically, the color reminded Byakuya of Renji’s hair. “Oh. Oh shit, seriously?”

“Quite,” Byakuya said, unable to hide a small smile. 

“Oh, well, uh… Okay, I guess I can tell you about this one time, when Renji thought it was a good idea to….”


End file.
